


Le Chien Mal Fet

by thrace



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrace/pseuds/thrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dog was a mistake.  Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/729654">Knock Me Out Some Other Way.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Le Chien Mal Fet

She never should have gotten Chloe that damn dog. Sure, Chloe loves Lancelot and Lancelot loves Chloe, but where does that leave _Beca_? 

Beca rescued Lancelot from the shelter when no one else wanted him, gave him a home with the most loving owner in Atlanta (possibly the world), and now continues to feed, walk, and bathe him regularly. And what does she get for all this attention? An ungrateful dog who has just run away from her at the dog park and refuses to come when called. He only comes when _Chloe_ calls. She once tried playing a recording of Chloe calling Lancelot but the little genius somehow knew it was a trick. Probably his superior dog hearing or something; whatever it is, Beca is now chasing her own dog and only just barely keeping up despite her Bellas conditioning program. She never thought she’d be so grateful to Aubrey Posen for forcing endurance on her.

When Lancelot finally gets tired of being a little shit, he performs an abrupt about-face and goes down onto his forelegs, tail high in the air. He pounces back and forth, toying with Beca while she tries to guess which way he’ll go next. On the seventh switchback, she guesses correctly enough to snag his collar and with an expertly practiced move, clips on his leash. 

Lancelot makes a piteous noise, knowing that park time is over.

“We’re going home,” says Beca firmly. As much as she wants to yell at the dog, he’s just being a dog, and besides which the one time she lost her temper and shouted that he was a bad dog while wagging her finger in Lancelot’s face, people walking in the park judged her. Whatever, they should try owning an asshole dog and staying calm.

*

“How was the park?” asks Chloe when they walk in the door of her apartment. Lancelot bounds over to her, yanking his leash out of Beca’s hand. She doesn’t even bother to try and get it back, instead taking off her dirty boots on the welcome mat.

“Hot,” says Beca. “And he ate his own poop again.” Which actually, she doesn’t mind since it means she doesn’t have to pick it up.

“Lancelot, so naughty,” says Chloe, although in a tone that suggests Lancelot is _not_ naughty and is in fact the most amusing dog in the whole world.

“And he ran away from me. Again.”

Chloe finally looks up from Lancelot, her mouth turned down in sympathy. “Did you have to chase him for long?”

Beca lies a little, mostly because Chloe is making that face and she already feels less aggravated just for seeing it. “A few minutes. We had fun. Didn’t we _Lancelot_?” She narrows her eyes at the dog as she bites out his name.

Lancelot rolls over and presents his belly, which Chloe obligingly rubs.

 _Well played, dog,_ Beca thinks. 

“He loves playing with you because you’re willing to run after him,” says Chloe. 

Beca is skeptical, even though Chloe is the dog whisperer in this relationship and apparently had a ton of them growing up. Beca once had a hamster, but the trauma of finding it dead one day kind of soured her on other childhood pets. “I don’t think he respects me.”

“Of course he does. You’re very big and intimidating,” says Chloe, now picking up Lancelot and mushing their faces together so that they’re side by side, looking at Beca. Chloe wags Lancelot’s paw and Beca could swear the dog is preening. Chloe puts on her Lancelot voice, which is low and extremely silly. “You’re very intimidating, Beca. Yes you are.”

Beca is unmoved by this display. “Maybe he should go to obedience school.”

Chloe’s eyes jump from Lancelot to Beca, her mouth dropping in shock. One hand covers Lancelot’s ear, although it’s completely ineffective since the other one remains free. “He should not! He’s such a good dog.” She sets Lancelot down, then snaps once to get his attention. He looks at her adoringly, patiently. “Lancelot. Sit.”

He sits.

“Lie down.”

Down he goes, flat as a furry pancake.

“Up.”

He pops up onto his hind legs, front legs coming to rest on Chloe’s knees.

“Good dog!” Chloe beams at Lancelot, rewarding him with a shower of affection and scratches. She motions Beca over, reaching out for her hand. Beca comes, even though she just wants to sit down and ask Chloe how her day was and then have dinner and snuggle, which is her secret guilty pleasure that no one else is allowed to know about. “You try,” says Chloe encouragingly. She pats Beca’s hand. “And remember, say it with authority.”

“Lancelot,” says Beca, and he cocks his head at her. She makes the hand motion Chloe uses for the instruction, five fingers making a point and drawing down from her chest to her stomach. “Sit.”

Lancelot twitches, then looks at Chloe.

“Sit,” Beca tries again, this time louder.

Lancelot barks at her.

Beca throws up her hands and trudges to the couch. “Fine. I’ll sit.” As soon as she does, Lancelot trots over and jumps onto the cushion next to her. He circles once, lies down, and closes his eyes. Beca shoots a very pointed look at Chloe, but she doesn’t get it because she’s too busy retrieving her phone from the kitchen counter.

“Hold still,” says Chloe with a delighted smile. “You guys look so cute together. I’m gonna put this on facebook.”

Beca just sighs.

*

That night Beca forgets about the stress of being a dog owner as Chloe drags her into bed and pins her down. There’s something about the simple, earnest way Chloe wants her that amazes Beca. Chloe touches her like she’s never wanted anyone more in her life, like being with Beca is special. Sometimes they’re both too tired to do anything but lie there but even then the way Chloe rolls over and fits their bodies together makes Beca feel wanted. Like Chloe _needs_ her. It’s pretty flattering.

Also flattering: Chloe licking along the shell of her ear and whispering shockingly dirty things to her. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” says Beca as Chloe promises to make her come and then does, two fingers inside of her, teeth biting down on the side of Beca’s breast. She wouldn’t have pinned Chloe for a biter but she is and Beca is finding that she’s the kind of girl who likes a good bite now and then. The way Chloe does it anyway, just a little sharp at first but then a soothing kiss to finish. Chloe knows all of Beca’s soft parts; she’s taken Beca apart from head to toe and it kind of scared Beca until she figured out that Chloe had filled up those spaces so that it was like Beca was never in pieces at all. What Chloe loves, she handles with care. 

Beca rolls them both over, bodies pressed together in the dark. She props herself up on one elbow. “I love you,” she says, the words coming easier now. She’s still not used to saying them and she doesn’t say them as often as she should, but she’s trying. The important thing is Chloe _knows_ she’s trying. 

“I love you too,” says Chloe with a slow, lazy smile. She toys with a lock of Beca’s hair, twirling it loosely around her finger. “So c’mere.” She rises off the pillow, just far enough for Beca to meet her halfway in a kiss. 

Beca is just thinking about sliding her body down Chloe’s when there comes an insistent scratching at the door, followed by a long, low whine. Beca doesn’t stop kissing Chloe’s stomach but she can feel Chloe start to lose the moment from the way her fingers loosen their grip in the tangle of Beca’s hair. She’s nearly to Chloe’s hipbone when the scratching comes again.

“He’s gotta learn sometime,” says Beca, watching Chloe glance anxiously at the door. She rests her cheek on Chloe’s waist, fingers tracing little paths up and down Chloe’s thighs. 

“I know,” says Chloe, and Beca can feel her muscles jumping under her touch. She takes it as a sign to keep going and slips even lower, kissing along the crease of Chloe’s thigh.

The scratching gets worse, and now the whining is just one continuous high-pitched keen.

Before Beca knows it, Chloe has slipped away, grabbing her robe on the way to the door. She opens it and Lancelot trots in, looking extremely pleased with himself. Beca flops onto her stomach and pulls the covers over her head. 

“He’ll wake up the neighbors if we don’t,” says Chloe by way of apology, and even though it’s true, Beca can’t find much room for understanding when she’s gone from being naked and alone with her girlfriend to having to share her bed with her now-clothed girlfriend and their dog. 

Lancelot prances on the mattress a little bit, smiling his dog smile at Beca as she lowers the covers just enough to glare at him. He tries to lick her face and she rears back, nearly over the edge of the bed. “Dude, no. No licking.”

Lancelot just shakes himself off, makes one more circuit of the bed from foot to headboard, and lies down right against Beca’s stomach. _Between_ her and Chloe, who slides in after the dog and lies on her side to watch the pair.

“He missed you,” says Chloe, clearly finding the prospect adorable. She rubs between Lancelot’s ears and his tail thumps against Beca a few times; Beca gets a kiss on the forehead which hardly makes up for the sex they didn’t get to finish having.

“He missed cockblocking me, you mean,” Beca corrects her.

Chloe lets their legs slide together under the sheets, below Lancelot’s little body. “You know Lancelot loves you because you’re alike, right?”

Beca would withdraw from the offense if it wouldn’t drop her completely off the bed. “We are _not_ ,” she hisses. “And he only loves you. He hates me.”

Chloe is obviously biting her lip in an effort not to laugh. “Okay, okay. Come here. I’m sorry I implied that Lancelot is the dog version of you.” She gently clasps Beca’s wrist, making sure she stays in bed. 

Beca grumbles but they both know she was never really going to leave. Chloe’s bed is one of her favorite places, even if Lancelot is wriggling around between them. Chloe slides her hand down to lace her fingers through Beca’s and just _looks_ at her. Maybe once upon a time Beca would’ve shied away or twitched uncomfortably, anything to get Chloe to stop. But now she looks back, letting their breathing slow down and even out together while Chloe strokes a slow rhythm on Beca’s skin with her thumb.

“Tomorrow,” Beca whispers drowsily. “He’s going in the laundry room.” 

*

Tomorrow Chloe comes home late, blowing through the front door looking vaguely flustered, her cheeks that lovely shade of red they get when she exerts herself. Beca and Lancelot have spent the time alternately working (her at her computer, him at a rawhide bone) and eyeing each other suspiciously, until the point Lancelot heard Chloe’s footsteps and went to the door to wait and wag his tail in a frenzy. “Hi,” says Chloe, dropping everything at the coat rack, including her crazy large satchel in which she keeps reams and reams of printouts for her thesis paper. It thunks dully on the wood floor, narrowly missing Lancelot’s head. Lancelot just wags his tail even harder, if that’s even possible.

“Good time at the library?” Beca asks.

“The best,” says Chloe breezily, dropping a kiss on the top of Beca’s head as she passes the kitchen counter on her way to the bedroom. Lancelot jumps and follows her, joining her while she changes which Beca thinks is creepy. He’d follow Chloe into the bathroom if she didn’t tell him to stay outside. 

Chloe comes back out in soft drawstring pants and a worn t-shirt, hair pinned up in a messy bun. Somehow she looks even better than she did dressed in her day clothes. “My advisor meeting went relatively well. As well as they can go, anyway.” She sinks onto the couch, automatically reaching for Lancelot to put him in her lap. “He wants me to go to a conference in two weeks. In D.C.”

“Sounds great,” says Beca absentmindedly, fiddling with the pitch on her mixer.

“The thing is,” says Chloe. “It’s on the twelfth.”

“The twelfth,” Beca repeats. She automatically does the math in her head. “That’s a Thursday.” Slowly it dawns on her why that date is significant and she stops working. “That’s when I start at Glow.”

Chloe winces. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…a lot of researchers related to my thesis will be giving lectures there and Dr. Steinhaus kind of implied that if I didn’t go it would be really bad.”

“Does Dr. Steinhaus know that I’ve been working on this set for Glow for two weeks and he’s really messing up my life right now?” asks Beca.

“Look, he’s totally strict and I think he hates me, but it’s not like he’s doing this on purpose,” says Chloe.

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Beca mutters. She taps one finger on her keyboard, wanting to do more than just tap. For the first time in a long time she can feel her temper flare—really flare, into a bright spike of anger, not just annoyance or frustration. 

“Beca—”

“It’s just.” Beca can’t look anywhere but down at her computer. “You’ve known about this for weeks. You got me the gig. _You_ did.”

“So why don’t you believe me when I tell you how hard this decision is?” asks Chloe. 

Beca keeps staring down, trying and failing to figure out what’s reasonable.

“Beca,” Chloe says again, quiet and wounded.

“Can’t you go to the next conference?” Beca asks, trying not to seem desperate. She’s never needed someone else’s approval or support before but now that she has both, she finds the prospect of losing them a bit daunting.

“It’s a once-a-year conference. The next one will be way too late. I have to go.” Chloe looks and sounds miserable at the prospect and Beca hates that she’s making Chloe feel bad about herself and so she does her best to pull it together.

“Okay.” She tries not to obviously take a deep a breath, even though she needs one. “I’m sorry I’m making a big deal out of it. It’s…you know, it’s your degree. You have to go. I get it.”

Chloe stands up so abruptly that Lancelot gets dumped on the floor, but for once Chloe doesn’t immediately fawn over his poor little hurt feelings. She slips over to Beca and wraps her arms around Beca’s shoulders from behind, head resting on Beca’s shoulder. “Thank you. I really am sorry.”

Beca lets her temple rest against Chloe’s, feeling warmth seeping into her body, and genuinely relaxes a little bit. “I know. I’m sorry I got mad about it.” 

“I’m mad about it too, if it’s any consolation,” says Chloe. She presses a little kiss into Beca’s shoulder. “Dr. Steinhaus is not a nice man.”

“Didn’t he tell you your thesis was puerile?”

Chloe groans. “Yes.”

“Then I guess it’s better to try to keep him happy.” Beca reaches behind the chair for Chloe’s hand, squeezes it once. She still feels awful, almost like she can taste the bitterness of their argument on the back of her tongue, but touching Chloe helps. “You better bring me back some souvenirs.”

Lancelot whines from his heap on the floor but Chloe doesn’t leave, much to Beca’s secret and totally childish delight. It almost makes the fight worth it.

But then Chloe says, “You and Lance are gonna have so much quality time together while I’m gone,” and Beca can practically feel ice water sluicing all over her. 

“Yaaayyy,” says Beca; she knows that somewhere behind her, Lancelot is smirking.

*

Lancelot obviously can’t live in her dorm, so Beca packs her overnight bag with a few more changes of clothes before going over to Chloe’s to take her to the airport. She doesn’t know why it feels so weird to be staying at Chloe’s for more than couple of days; she’s hardly ever in her dorm room, which Cynthia Rose doesn’t mind at all since she’s essentially getting a single for the price of a double. Maybe it’s that Chloe is trusting her so casually, like of course her girlfriend will stay at her apartment while she’s gone. They’re in a place to be taking certain things for granted and yes, they’ve dropped the L-bomb but Beca has never been here before. She’s never stayed long enough or been wanted long enough to just be _expected_ to do this stuff.

“And you have to get a refill on his heartworm pills,” says Chloe.

“I’ll stop at the vet on my way home,” says Beca distractedly, focusing on taking the right exit to get to the domestic terminal. 

The rest of the way Chloe talks about her conference schedule and the speakers she’s excited to see and the tourist sites she wants to hit. She promises to bring Beca quality souvenirs and then they’re pulling up to the terminal, slotting in behind other cars offloading passengers and luggage.

Beca puts the car in park and lets the engine idle, eyes lingering on her lap. Chloe’s left hand invades her peripheral vision and she’s forced to look up, up into those big blues. 

“I’ll miss you,” says Chloe, squeezing Beca’s hand. 

“I’ll miss you too,” says Beca, but her efforts to play it cool make it come out robotically. She winces. “Call me when you land?”

Chloe seems to get it anyway, and leans over for a kiss. Beca presses into her, wanting to make it last, a memory to get her through the rest of the week. God, she’s pathetic. It’s only four days; she’s been left to her own devices for way longer than that. They won’t even be in different time zones. 

“Of course,” says Chloe, smiling against her mouth, and Beca’s own mouth twitches up in response. 

She helps Chloe tug her roll-on out of the trunk, hugs her tightly (and maybe inhales a lungful of her Chloe smell like a total creeper), and then she’s by herself, standing on the drop off curb. 

A car honks at her. 

She shoots the driver her dirtiest possible look, which after all the shit the Trebles used to do to the Bellas is more scathing than should be humanly possible, but doesn’t flip him off. She’s trying to be a grownup now and that means letting go of things that aren’t worth fussing over, like impatient assholes in BMWs—Beca nearly snarls as he honks at her again and deliberately stays parked in her spot until he moves on. She feels much better now. 

*

When Chloe texts her, an exhausted-sounding _longest day everrrrr ): how was yours_ , Beca is still mad at Lancelot for running away from her again during their evening walk. She climbs into bed, followed by a whining dog, and types her reply with one eye on her little miscreant and an ache in her legs from the chase.

_The dog had a long run in the park. So did I._

_wish i could’ve been there for that sounds fun! is lancelot with you?_

Beca signs and looks to her right, where Lancelot is lying with his head on his paws, eyes locked mournfully on Beca. _Right next to me in bed_.

_kiss him for me_

Beca pats Lancelot on the head. His tail twitches in the beginnings of a wag, but he otherwise stays still, continuing to give Beca that pathetic look. 

_are you kissing him???_

“Oh my god,” says Beca out loud. She rolls her eyes at the phone but nevertheless bends over and kisses Lancelot squarely between the ears. Before she can pull back his tongue darts out and he licks her full on the mouth. Beca splutters and scrapes at her lips. “DUDE.” 

When she comes back from gargling with mouthwash in the bathroom, Chloe has already signed off for the night, albeit with four extremely long texts full of emojis and an extravagant number of hearts to finish. Beca hesitates for a moment, but then realizes she’s being dumb again and sends back _I love you too. Call me tomorrow if you have time._

She switches off the bedside lamp and burrows deeper into bed, trying to adjust to not having Chloe automatically roll over and tuck herself into Beca, her right hand stroking Beca’s stomach until Chloe falls asleep. Instead she gets Lancelot, who seems to have realized that Beca is his only option. He makes a couple of circles, then flops dramatically onto her legs. It’s quiet in the apartment and the sounds and distractions of the day are gone, leaving Beca with her dumb dog and her dumb feelings. 

Lancelot whimpers.

“I know, Lance. I miss her too,” says Beca. 

*

The day of her gig at Glow she wakes up to a pileup of texts from the Bellas confirming they’ll be there, and one very emphatic good luck text from Chloe. Beca is tense all day, checking and re-checking her equipment until it’s time for Lancelot’s walk, which she takes a little earlier than usual so she can get to the club for sound check at seven.

Lancelot runs away again. But this time Beca, morose and missing Chloe fiercely and disgusted with herself for missing someone gone twenty-four hours and on top of it all trying to keep her nerves from completely fraying, just says “Come on Lancelot.” And to her very great surprise, Lancelot comes trotting back, tail wagging. 

“What the fuck,” says Beca.

*

“You’re gonna be great, I just know it,” says Chloe over their facetime half an hour before Beca goes on. 

Beca stares wistfully at her phone. “Thanks.” She adds, “I miss you” because it’s one of those times when she has to say what she feels instead of just standing there awkwardly until Chloe figures it out. At least she’s getting better at using her words.

Chloe’s mouth quirks up with that mischievous smile that usually means someone’s about to lose their shirt. “Would you miss me less if I…” And she slowly unbuttons her top button, letting it pop free to reveal the very top of her bra.

“Chloe!” Beca hisses, automatically looking around to make sure no one else can see her screen, which is dumb because she’s in the DJ booth by herself. 

“What?” asks Chloe innocently. There goes another button.

Beca’s right eye twitches. “That is making me miss you _way more_ and you know it.”

Chloe just laughs at her and leans in to kiss the camera, making an exaggerated smacking sound as her lips loom large. “Just keeping you honest. Remember that when hordes of hot girls are trying to get your number.”

“Hordes, huh,” says Beca drily. “And anyway, it’s not like I won’t just be thinking of you the whole time.”

Chloe flushes with pleasure, going absolutely mushy. It happens sometimes, usually when Beca doesn’t stop to think or process but just kind of vomits up her feelings without meaning to. “I’ll be thinking of you too,” says Chloe, her eyes darting down shyly. Beca has no idea why, considering the amount of time they spend naked together, but it makes her heart thump all the same.

*

The Bellas swarm her after the club closes. They’ve clearly been waiting outside for her while she gathers her things and gets her check from the manager and they nearly jostle her bag strap off her shoulder from the enthusiasm of their group hug. 

“O-o-o-okay,” she says, voice bouncing because Stacie and Fat Amy have sandwiched her and are rocking her side to side.

Lilly punches her in the shoulder and murmurs.

“Thanks Lilly,” says Beca, trying to pry herself loose.

“We’re going to Amy’s for the afterparty,” says Denise. “You in?”

“I have to go home,” says Beca. “Also it’s three-thirty in the morning.”

“That’s why it’s called an afterparty,” says Fat Amy, as though it should be obvious. “Come on, you’re gonna just go to bed after a night like that? We’ve got champers and I think we’re gonna release a box of pigeons in the dean’s house.”

“Oh boy, I’m definitely going home,” says Beca. Nevertheless she watches her crew scatter to their cars with a fond smile. She almost regrets turning them down when she thinks of her empty apartment and its furry little inhabitant. 

Her phone buzzes and when she pulls it out she sees a text from Chloe, who is inexplicably still awake. _your show was great you are great i love you!_ it says, followed by the usual cavalcade of emojis, most of them hearts but some of them thumbs ups and, inexplicably, one sailboat.

 _Why are you still up?_ Beca types back.

_like i would miss your first professional gig for anything i facetimed cynthia rose and she held up the phone so i could see you!_

All at once Beca is incredibly awed by Chloe’s thoughtfulness and incredibly lonely. _I love you too. A lot._ she sends. Only two more days to go until Chloe comes home.

*

Lancelot sleeps on Chloe’s side of the bed that night. He whimpers in his sleep, little paws making abortive running motions. It wakes up Beca, whose first instinct is to shove Lancelot out of the bed. But then she sees the way his nose is buried in Chloe’s pillow and concedes to rub his belly until he calms down, the way she’s seen Chloe do it. 

In the morning, Lance nudges her with his wet nose to wake her up but when she grumbles and waves him off, he lies down obediently and lets her go back to sleep. She gives him an extra treat with breakfast and tries not to think about how terrible her own eggs taste despite following Chloe’s recipe to the letter.

*

On the third day, Lancelot actually sits when she commands it. He stays close to her for most of their walk, running off a few yards and then looking back expectantly. It’s as though with Chloe gone, he understands that Beca is all he’s got. And maybe Beca has altered her tone, her voice not so exasperated and more just quietly telling Lancelot how it is. Maybe he can hear how much she misses Chloe. Maybe he’s finally gotten over himself.

All she knows is that when it’s time to go and she has to put his leash on, she doesn’t have the energy to corral him so she just looks him in the eye, makes the motion, and says “Sit.” 

He sits.

She blinks a few times. Lance waits.

“Good dog,” she says to him for the first time. 

Lancelot looks at her like he’s proud of himself. 

“All right, don’t get cocky,” she says.

*

Chloe flies back late on day four. Beca’s original plan was to pick Chloe up by herself, but when she grabs her keys and walks towards the door with them jangling in her hand, Lancelot scrabbles over to her faster than if she’d just said _bacon_. His weird psychic connection with anything to do with Chloe is kind of freaky but so were the past few days, so Beca shrugs, clips on his leash, and brings him along in the car.

The entire way there he stands up on the passenger side seat, paws on the window sill, staring at the other cars as they pass by. He starts yapping as soon as he spots Chloe, trudging over to the car with her rolling suitcase trailing behind her. She looks exhausted, dark smudges under her eyes, hair gone awry , clothes askew probably from sleeping on the plane, and positively gorgeous despite it all. Beca nearly runs to her for one of those absurd movie kisses, which she doesn’t think the state troopers or the other people trying to get to their cars will appreciate. Instead she leans against the side of the car with her arms folded, the window rolled down just far enough for Lance to poke his little head over the glass.

“Fancy meeting you here,” says Beca.

“Oh shut up,” says Chloe. She grabs Beca around the waist and pulls her into a full-on kiss and they end up having their movie moment after all. Beca doesn’t pull away, doesn’t fidget, doesn’t think of anything except sinking into Chloe and her soft mouth. Later she’ll be embarrassed that they’re doing this where all of arrivals can watch them; now there’s just Chloe, right in front of her. They don’t stop kissing until Lancelot barks at them and then Chloe pulls back just far enough to rest her forehead against Beca’s. “You smell really good.”

Chloe smells like stale, recycled air and plane food but Beca just squeezes Chloe’s hips with both hands. “You feel really good.”

“How was Lance?” asks Chloe. The dog wags his tail at being included in the conversation.

Beca glances over her shoulder. Lance looks like he’s going to leap out of the car to be with Chloe and maybe that’s something she can relate to. “I don’t think he’s gonna let you leave again for a while.”

Chloe kind of looks askance at her, as if she knows Beca isn’t talking about the dog at all. “Poor Lance,” she says, smiling right at Beca.

“Poor Lance,” Beca agrees.

Lance barks again and Chloe laughs. “Let’s go home,” she says.


End file.
